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Hetaera
Hetaera is a former Draenei anchorite and current shaman of the Light’s Blade. Known for her sagacious advice, but often hardline views, she is an ardent defender of her people and a proponent for continued warfare against the orcs. Though there are many that would have the Draenei forget the offenses that the orcs have perpetrated against their people, Hetaera lives each day remembering their most egregious of attrocities. A woman of little humor and austere mannerisms, the shaman battles with ire as her guide. Early Life Born the only child of Praetus the Vindicated and his wife Ilaana, Hetaera’s life began on the planet of Oberiim. A vindicator of some renown, Praetus was known to be stern but fair. Ilaana was an anchorite that was noted for her strict disciplinary views and lack of mirth, a woman who loved but did not like – who had compassion but did not coddle. It came as little surprise that their child, Hetaera, would prove to be a noticeably tranquil child. This reserved nature would travel with her through life, marking her as an introspective and often reticent individual. Oberiim was largely a forested planet, calm and gentle. When the Long Flight recommenced, Hetaera was taken into the Oshu’gun where she was slowly groomed to become a vindicator as her father was. Praetus, believing that the Light had bestowed upon him his miraculous child to continue his legacy, saw nothing but potential in his Light-blessed child and tried his best to shape her into a warrior that would bring glory and honor to her people and the Light. For two centuries Hetaera managed to present the image of a competent, but not necessarily talented aspirant. Though her understanding of the Light was superb, her inherent serenity left much to be desired from her in militaristic training. Folly though it may have been, Praetus believed that if he gave his daughter’s tutelage to a different instructor then perhaps she would learn a lesson he could not teach. Despite Ilaana’s protests that their daughter was too gentle a soul to become a vindicator, Praetus entered her into the tutelage of Vindicator Juras. Unlike her father, Vindicator Juras placed less emphasis on the strenuous and stern principles of their training and more on the spiritual enlightenment that could come from it. The two were near different in every way possible: Praetus was a man carved from marble, whereas Juras was made of dough. Where Praetus was stern, Juras was jolly. Hetaera, wishing to impress her parents and her newfound tutor, gave herself entirely to the pursuit of perfection, but though she tried she never excelled. It was a situation Juras had seen before – the proud father and the dedicated daughter. After witnessing Hetaera’s greatest display with the Light, he took Praetus aside and explained that though his daughter could one day become a vindicator, she was not like either of them. Hetaera was a healer – a woman intended to mend wounds, not cause them. Jorus’ charisma softened Praetus to the idea, but it was Ilaana that finally stated her daughter would become an anchorite. Given permission to pursue her true interests, Hetaera thanked Juras heartily and swore that one day she would repay him for his kindness. Although he would no longer serve as his tutor he promised to advise her whenever she required, and through centuries to come she would often return to him when in need of a supportive word. From that point forth, Hetaera’s star rose without fail. Hetaera’s magnetic charisma caused her peers to flock to her and she imparted upon them what wisdom and knowledge she could. Quick to smile and soft of voice, she became the conscience of many of her friends and a vague ideal of the Light’s loving tranquility. It was her romance with the Light that truly drove her through the centuries. Although too reserved to reveal how very much she wished to learn in regard to the Light, her indefatigable desire to become closer to it prevented her from ever slackening in her studies. With each planet that the Draenei visited she attempted to find the Light within its inhabitants and through teaching them of it, managed to understand it a bit more herself. Millennia passed in this manner – the anchorite would sow seeds of enlightenment wherever she might travel. Eventually the Draenei arrived on Draenor. It was here that the anchorite’s training would come into usage – and here that she would be forever changed. Life on Draenor Draenor was a lush and beautiful planet, not very different from the Oberiim of her birth. Much like her peers Hetaera felt it was best to keep to herself, though she did make efforts to seek out orcs on occasion that her previous missionary compulsions might arise. The orcs, devoutly shamanistic, found her teachings to be of little interest, but she learned from them the importance of ancestral reverence and felt no ill will toward them for their insistence upon practicing their own religion. Now an adult by Draenic standards, Hetaera should have been prepared to seek out her first mate, but a life of scholarly pursuits had left her ill equipped to address social situations. The same woman that had been able to speak to lumbering goliaths on Vaegris or convince chittering plants on Despa to appreciate the allure of the Light, was completely incapable of expressing her changing feelings to those that she found attractive. As quickly as a brief romance would begin to take root, so too would she call it off and retreat back to her studies. With the settlement of Draenor underway, Hetaera chose to join a small community of anchorites in what would one day be known as Nagrand. The rolling plains were as peaceful a place as could be imagined and through deep meditation she once more began to experience her connection with the Light as she had when converting the faithless – a connection that she may never be able to find within another person, but one that the Light would forever present to her. 'Rise of the Horde' When word of orcish aggression reached her ears, Hetaera could hardly believe it. The orcs were far from savages; in fact, some might even consider them noble. Despite this, she sent many of her juniors ahead to Shattrath while she and her peers remained to continue to assist those that fled from various areas upon Draenor. Certain that the Light would protect her through whichever maelstrom was coming her way, though grim tales found her she refused to leave Sae’ar. It was not until the orcish horde had nearly arrived at Sae’ar that the normally wise Hetaera began to realize how very foolish she had been. The Light did not favor her over any other – if they could be harmed, then so could she. With the last of her supporters she prepared to leave, but before she could the orcs were upon them. What followed as a cataclysm of combat. Noble guardians fought against savage offenders to little avail, and though some orcs may have fallen all of those who stood before them were decimated. Hetaera received a terrible gash on her forehead as a result of trying to plead with the orcs to place down their weapons. Though many perished in the razing of Sae’ar, Hetaera and several other female Draenei were taken captive. Unknowing what was awaiting them, they continued to pray with the belief that either the orcs would remember themselves, or that salvation would arrive for them. The orcs did not change. Salvation did not come for many years. It was the warlock Gul’dan that came upon the idea to create super soldiers through the interbreeding of orcish warriors to Draenei women, and though Hetaera and her sisters may have prayed, they were not delivered from that nightmare. Far from being alone in her torment, she was branded with the number seventeen on her arm, forever marking her as one of those conquered women. Faith alone kept her from shattering, but there was no end to the number of cracks that would appear upon a once pristine vase. These were the darkest times of her life; a time with no Light. It was from that darkness that the woman she would one day become was forged. '"Seventeen"' As #17, Hetaera’s life was filled with misery and desolation. The birth of her first child, Ijaa’ni, marked the only moment of joy she would know as she held the half-orcish girl, but just as quickly as she entered the world so too did she leave it. Ijaa’ni was a small child – a fragile child, like her mother had been. Finding her weak, the overseer ripped her from her arms and dashed the baby’s head against the wall, then reminded Hetaera that she was to make a soldier or die like the others. It was a mortal blow to her psyche; to have something as sweet and innocent as her child in her arms one moment and then to see her killed without mercy the next. Hetaera at long last broke – there was to be no hope, no prayer for the future. But the orcs did not require her to believe in anything, only to produce children. So she was taken again and again, until eventually she was once more with child. Her second born child was a son, Draegar. Unlike his sister he took after his orcish blood and was seen as having a great potential for the Horde. Hetaera could hardly look upon the child as he was taken from her, and though his crying haunted her she refused to associate herself with him. To have a third child would be too much for her to bear. She prepared for her inevitable death. Three months following the birth of her child, when Hetaera was on the verge of relinquishing her hold on life, a group of resistance fighters attacked the camp. In her delirium Hetaera thought that she saw her father charging through the enemy and coming to rescue her, but could not be certain. She passed out not long after the attack was completed. The rescuers fled then into the wilds of Terrokar, where a true awakening would occur. The Fist of Vengeance Upon awakening, Hetaera was introduced to a sight that she had never before seen – the Broken. These men and women were the remains of those who had been touched by orcish fel magic, and though she was initially frightened by their grotesque appearances she soon found herself at peace for the first time in years. The resistance fighters, known as the Fist of Vengeance, were led by a Broken shaman named Rhaen. He permitted Hetaera several days rest before approaching her on their mission and objective: the complete annihilation of breeding facilities such as she had been rescued from, and crippling the orcish war machine as much as possible. The thought of the orcs sent her nearly into catatonia though, and Hetaera proved to be of little assistance in her first month with the Fist. During her convalescence, Hetaera began to see the Broken as a people that were not entirely unlike her. Physically she may have remained the same, but just as they had broken physically so had her spirituality been shattered. The woman that she should have been was not the woman she was, and as she began to recover Hetaera accepted that day by day. The Fist experienced a harrowing defeat following the raid that saved Hetaera; a defeat that cost them their strategist. Once more, Rhaen came to Hetaera to ask her for intelligence, but once more she refused him. The thought of working against the orcs was nearly as terrifying as being beneath their control again. But a second faction played into the field then, an amalgamation of Lost One tribes led by Khal’ir the Cruel. The Lost Ones were thrice as deformed as the Broken, a sight that broke Hetaera’s heart. Rhaen, incapable of attacking the orcs and Lost Ones at the same time found himself momentarily incapable of acting. Hetaera provided him with the answer when she said despite her fear she would meet with Khal’ir. It was a mission that she would have undertaken without fear as an anchorite, but the shattered woman she had become feared everything. Unaccompanied, she ventured into the forest until Khal’ir’s Kakalaka warriors seized her and took her to him. There, she pled the commonality of their causes and pointed out how working with the Fist would benefit both parties. But Khal’ir saw no shared ancestry between himself and the Broken – even less so the pale faced Draenei before him. Her head, he said, would make a good adornment for his wall. What followed next happened in such a sudden clash that Hetaera only realized what it was as it came to its end. Rhaen’s warriors, having cloaked themselves and stalked after her, broke into the meeting and set to slaughtering the Lost Ones without fail. Hetaera had proven to be bait – a good piece of bait that had not only located the Kakalaka base, but also provided them the chance to seize Khal’ir. Broken and defeated, Khal’ir the Cruel pled for his life. Though Rhaen was set upon killing him, Hetaera asked that mercy be shown. To sweeten the offer, she promised to assist Rhaen with his attacks if he would grant her this favor. Khal’ir’s epithet was changed to the the Craven and Hetaera became the Fist’s military advisor. Khal’ir, pledging himself to Hetaera, offered her his remaining followers as spies. Those that did not return to wilds would become known as Knuckles – the point of contact from which the Fist operated. Guerilla warfare was not at all like the games of exarchaes that she and Vindicator Juras had played when she was younger. There were no organized lines nor were there definitive points of victory – it was an arduous and painstaking task, and the only advantage she had was in knowing what an orc would do when prompted one way or the other. Her initial sorties proved ineffective, but were very educational. It was the fourth that saw a camp razed and its commander captured. He was put to death. Hetaera did not dispute this. 'Breaking the Fist' Months turned into years of resistance. Hetaera and the Fist of Vengeance continued to harass the orcs as best they could. It was a life that she believed her father would have approved of; that Vindicator Juras would have been proud of had he witnessed it. During this time, two drastically distinctive relationships began to form within Hetaera’s life: her fondness for Rhaen, and Khal’ir’s fondness for her. Though the former was reciprocated, the latter proved to be little more than a flattering notion she told him was born from his desire to repay her for her kindness, not true love. But her refusal to favor Khal’ir’s many gifts did not go without repercussion. Having already lost his once spanning tribes due to Rhaen’s deception, Khal’ir began to detest the man all the more. Hetaera valued him because of his organization, he believed, and not because he was a greater man than he. If she could love a Broken, after all, why could she not love a Lost One? Certain of himself, he set into motion a plan that would change the nature of the war against orcs. Khal’ir had one of his underlings provide Hetaera with false information. Believing that a caravan would be lightly guarded, she carried the message to Rhaen who left with his trusted soldiers to attack the transport. What resulted was a massacre that nearly killed Rhaen and took the lives of several of his friends. He returned in defeat, and though Khal’ir believed that Hetaera would cast him aside in his state of weakness, she instead embraced him and kissed him before all that remained. For days after, Khal’ir plotted on how to further cripple Rhaen while at the same time appearing the lovingly subservient friend to Hetaera that she had known since he was spared from death. His resentment manifested with each loving glance he saw between them and soon he decided to be rid of Rhaen once and for all – in an act of madness, he informed an orcish scout of the Fist’s latest encampment and told them that they were at their weakest. All he asked for in return was the hand of Hetaera when she was captured. The orcs attacked at dawn, thunder heralding the slaughter that was to follow. Though the Fist was composed of valiant soldiers, they were guerilla warriors and could do little when trapped. What resulted was a massacre the likes of which Hetaera had not seen since the fall of Sae’er. Rhaen, hardly at full strength, struggled to his feet and said that he would protect her should she wish to escape. The sound of orcish warfare was not at all unlike the sounds that had haunted her for years, and as anguish and fear roiled within her, she found herself incapable of doing any more than staring at the Broken face of a man she knew she loved. She thought of ending her life before they took her again. But she did not – she could not They had broken her once; they would not again. As Broken and orcs began to fight, Hetaera watched as Rhaen fought through lines of the enemy with only the elements at his side. One orc fell, then two – three, four. It was not the savagery of nature that fueled him, she knew, but love. A love that she felt escaping down her cheeks as each rivulet of blood painted the rain slicked grass where an orc’s axe struck Rhaen. She could not allow him to fall. It awakened within her to the sound of thunder and a flashing of lighting. She did not know how she manifested the power, but she knew of where it came from. The rage that had been within her for so long, that she had denied had become an acrimonious spirit hell-bent on the destruction of the orcs. When she emerged from the tent, it was to unleash a brace of lightning bolts that lacerated an orc and left him charred upon the ground. In this way, Hetaera rediscovered herself. She was born of the storm – not the anchorite she once was, but a woman that would forever remember the suffering that she had endured. The song of earth and flame erupted through her and in that moment she became a maelstrom of elemental devastation. Rhaen and the remaining members of the Fist were granted their escape in the wake of her onslaught, but there was little that could be done for the cause. Khal’ir’s treachery came to light only after his body was found pierced to a tree, the word ‘Traitor’ carved into his sloped forehead. The resistance was defeated. Rhaen was near death. For all of her newly discovered power, Hetaera knew that she could not save him – raw potential mattered little when a delicate hand was required. With his last breaths Rhaen informed Hetaera of the strength she had come to know and how very proud of her the family she mentioned would have been. Fire and lightning would forever be hers to command, but until she learned to love again she would find healing a task unbearable. It was with the words of a mentor, not a lover, that he left the world. She was once more, alone. Joining the Light’s Blade Years after her emancipation from the orcs, Hetaera had become an accomplished shaman. Though she was far from being comparable to legendary casters, she was confident and certain of her abilities and used them as best she could to protect the Grand Alliance. Still, whenever a theater called for combating orcs she shied away from it and often did not work with the Earthen Ring because of their affiliation with them. One day while returning from Terrokar, Hetaera had a chance meeting with a young exarch by the name of Terras. What began as a casual conversation turned into an offer for a position amongst the Sha’nash – the Light’s Blade. Having been without companions since the fall of the Fist, Hetaera hesitantly agreed and found herself within a company of many bold Draenei. Now elevated to the position of Harbinger within the order, Hetaera uses her wisdom to advise the Exarch’s hand as best she can in the coming battles they face. With Terras’ assistance she learned to overcome her fear of orcs and has since become a force of reckoning in any engagement that involves them. Appearance Hetaera is a white-skinned Draenei with equally white hair. Though life has been hard upon her, she retains a very pleasing nature about herself, though what was once serene now can better be considered stoic. More often than not favoring bandages beneath her armor, she attempts at all times to conceal the 17 that is engraved within her arm, though if it is seen she makes little mention of it. Physically, Hetaera’s regimen has proven advantageous to her general well being. She is fit and has toned muscles, not at all the shapeless and slender creature that others might prefer. Though far from masculine in nature, her body is well grounded and her attention to fitness revealed in both her stride and bearing. She often wears robes when out of combat. Personality Hetaera is often standoffish and cold, though she takes pride in neither distinction. Believing that there are far too many who forgive and forget the crimes of the past, she is a dour reminder of what has been and what could once more be if the Draenei do not remain vigilant. Often found to be either frowning or on the verge of a grimace, she answers jokes with blank stares and rarely smiles. Although she has expressed a need to see the orcs punished, she does not appreciate those who flippantly remark on how much they enjoy killing orcs. As with many things in her life, Hetaera takes little pleasure in killing and states that it is “justice”, not “honor” or “fun” that motivates her hands. When not spoken to directly she will rarely speak out unless an offense is related; however, when questioned her meaning is often driven home with absolute certainty. When she encounters half-orc children she often becomes overwhelmed with grief, but tries her best to conceal it. However, when she meets an orc and Draenei couple or hears of them, she can hardly contain her disgust and contempt. It is that situation alone that can have her voice words that she would never say – words that come from her inability to comprehend such an effrontery to the suffering that she and her people have endured. Hetaera is exceedingly humble, to the point of nearly infuriating someone that wishes to compliment her. A particular quirk is that she will generally turn down something unless it is offered three times: the reason for this rarely shared. Her humility often makes her appear too readily subservient, though there are times when a double meaning can be taken from her obsequious statements. Quotes "It is not with mirth nor elation that I kill these aberrations. I find no glory in their defeat; no honor in their demise. That which motivates my hand is a call that has been for too long left unanswered by our people. I strike in the name of Justice - and the wicked shall find no mercy within its delivery." "I beseech you to view this from many perspectives, Loremaster - look at it through the eyes of the father who watched as his son perished; the mother as her daughter was taken half-a-hundred times. Witness it from the brother who died to protect his younger sibling; the child helplessly left to watch as her parents were slaughtered. Look at the orcs for all these things and tell me that it is singlemindedness with which I speak. I speak not for myself, nor my own sorrow, but for the Draenei people." Category:Alliance, Draenei, Shaman, Sha'nash